The Cruise

By Catherine Cooper

A glamorous ship. A missing woman. A holiday to DIE for…

The gripping new thriller from the Sunday Times bestseller!

‘A brilliant new storyteller has arrived’ ERIN KELLY
‘Intense and claustrophobic’ HEAT
‘Agatha Christie with glamour’ SUNDAY TIMES

A glamorous ship

During a New Year’s Eve party on a large, luxurious cruise ship in the Caribbean, the ship’s dancer, Lola, goes missing.

Everyone on board has something to hide

Two weeks later, the ship is out of service, laid up far from land with no more than a skeleton crew on board. And then more people start disappearing…

No one is safe
Why are the crew being harmed? Who is responsible? And who will be next?

Find out in the twisty new thriller from the queen of glamorous crime, Catherine Cooper.

‘A well-plotted twisty read from the destination thriller author’ WOMAN’S WEEKLY

PRAISE FOR CATHERINE COOPER:

‘A brilliant book with a twist you won’t see coming’ BELLA

‘A great, pacy read fans of Lucy Foley will love’ FABULOUS

‘Atmospheric and suspenseful’ WOMAN’S WEEKLY

‘A striking debut – the ultimate winter read!’ FRANCE MAGAZINE

‘Adrenaline-charged – makes for superb, wintry reading’ WI LIFE

‘I was gripped by The Chalet from start to finish and loved the vivid setting’ CASS GREEN

‘I LOVED this fun, fast-paced murder mystery. Luxurious surroundings, great characters and dark secrets’ SUZY K QUINN

‘A chilling and atmospheric thriller full of dark secrets and addictive twists' ROZ WATKINS

‘A cleverly plotted thriller set almost entirely in the French Alps. The descriptions of the snow made me feel like I was there’ ALLIE REYNOLDS

‘A striking debut… the ultimate winter read’ France magazine

‘The plot is as chilling as the setting: this is the perfect read for a cold winter's evening ’ ROBIN MORGAN-BENTLEY

‘An absolutely cracking read’ NELL PATTISON

‘Great suspense with more twists and turns than off-piste skiing’ LAURE VAN RENSBURG

‘A fantastic setting for a chilling thriller’ CHRIS MCDONALD

‘A perfect atmospheric whodunnit’ DIANE JEFFERY

‘A perfect winter read’ DEBBIE HOWELLS

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins UK
• Release date: Oct 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9780008497309

Catherine Cooper

Catherine Cooper is a journalist specializing in luxury travel, hotels and skiing who writes regularly for national newspapers and magazines. She lives near the Pyrenees in the South of France with her family, cats and chickens. Her debut, The Chalet, was a top 5 Sunday Times bestseller.

Book preview

Prologue

The Immanis is eighteen decks high – taller than the Eiffel Tower – and the length of five football pitches. She is five times the size of the Titanic, not that anyone wants to think about anything like that right now as they embark, of course. There are twenty-five restaurants on board – one has two Michelin stars – and twenty-two bars, including one which only serves champagne, caviar and oysters. There are six pools, three theatres, two spas and a casino. There’s also a water park with slides and surf simulator, a zip wire between two of the funnels, a rollercoaster and a fully kitted out soft play centre, currently the largest anywhere at sea. In short, everything that anyone could wish for on the perfect Caribbean cruise is here.

And the suites! The twenty best suites are each two storeys high with enormous terraces and private plunge pools. Each one comes with its own personal butler who is on hand 24/7 to help with anything that is needed. Anything at all.

All the passengers are very excited – they barely have a care in the world. And why would they? What could possibly go wrong? Cruising is one of the safest forms of transport. Worldwide, nearly thirty million people typically go on a cruise every year. There are very few accidents. Very few. Almost no one thinks about the handful of people who go missing from these trips each year – most of these passengers arriving probably don’t even know about them. Naturally, almost no one yet has any idea that someone will go missing on this very trip. Preparations are already being made. Plans are in motion. They have been for a long time.

PART ONE

1

Antonio

New Year’s Eve 2021, 12:00

The Caribbean

‘Lola! Come on! You’re not concentrating!’ Jamie, the entertainment director, shouts.

High above the ground, Lola is spinning round and round in her harness, giggling hysterically, the flowing feathers of her costume trailing behind her.

‘It’s New Year’s Eve, Jamie!’ she calls. ‘Let’s have some fun, for once! Wheeeeeeeee! Wheeeee!’

Jamie stabs at the iPad that controls the harness and it moves slowly to lower Lola to the ground. She is still twirling, only stopping when the floor comes up to meet her feet.

I try to hide a smirk.

‘You’re no fun,’ Lola grumbles. ‘We already know this routine inside out. Why do we need yet another dress rehearsal? There are so many better things we could be doing.’ She yawns theatrically. ‘Like sleeping, for one.’

Jamie gestures at the iPad again. ‘Health and safety, Lola, as you well know. Periodically we have to check the harnesses, and that everything’s still all in sync with the app.’ He looks her up and down. ‘In case you’ve lost weight. Or put it on. Or—’

‘Rude!’ she cries good-naturedly. ‘How dare you suggest I’ve put on weight?’

I see him try to stifle a smile. He is trying to be strict but no one can ever resist Lola. Everyone loves her.

‘You know very well that I’m not suggesting anything,’ he says. ‘I just want to keep the Safety Officer off my back, and check that you’re not going to come crashing down on some poor unfortunate audience member’s head, or be accidentally slammed into the wall or floor. Unless that’s what you want, of course.’

Bit unnecessary, the violent imagery, I think. All three of us know these are basically box-ticking exercises.

Lola bites her lip and pulls an exaggerated look of contrition. ‘No, Jamie,’ she says in a little-girl voice. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t want that. I’ll be good now, I promise.’

He nods. ‘Glad to hear it,’ he says. ‘So, if you’re ready to behave professionally, Lola, we’ll get all the checks out of the way, and then you can go back to sleep or do whatever you want to do. Antonio – you ready too?’

‘Yup, ready to go.’

Jamie jabs at the screen, the music starts and our two harnesses rise slowly on either side of the stage as we grip the purple silk drapes which rise with them. I hold the fixed position we take at the beginning of the performance, secured only by one foot and one hand wrapped into the silk, and Lola rises in a mirrored position, only she is twirling her free hand and foot sarcastically, flicking Jamie vees and wiggling her hips from side to side. Jamie sighs and turns away from her. He probably has other things he’d rather do than be here faffing around with the harnesses, but it’s his neck on the line if anything goes wrong.

As we reach the top, the music changes and we let go of the silks. The harnesses also drop slightly at the very same moment, as if we are about to fall, which always draws shocked gasps from the audience. In their absence, Lola calls out a silly ‘ooooohhhhhh’, performs an unscheduled somersault and pulls a stupid face as our two harnesses make us ‘fly’ to meet in the middle, where we perform our dance, several metres above the stage.

At this point Lola stops messing around and we move in perfect sync, gliding towards, around and away from each other, swooping, turning, looping, meeting each other’s eyes and then turning away again. In perfect time with the music, telling its story. In perfect sync with each other.

We have performed this routine so many times it is almost meditative. Hypnotic and mesmerizing for the audience.

The final chords sound, we strike our finishing pose and are then slowly lowered to the ground, where Jamie unclips us.

Lola takes an over-exaggerated bow, collects invisible flowers which are apparently being thrown by an imaginary audience, mouthing ‘thank you, thank you’ and then asks: ‘Happy, Jamie? Are we safe enough for you now?’

Jamie prods at the iPad. ‘Yep. All done. That wasn’t so bad, Lola, was it?’

‘It was brilliant,’ she mocks, ‘I have literally never, ever had more fun in my life.’

Jamie ignores her sarcasm. ‘Good to hear. See you both later. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do in the meantime – the big boss is here for the evening show and I need you both in top form.’

Once Jamie is out of earshot, Lola says: ‘God, that guy is tedious.’

‘He’s just doing his job, Lola – doing his best to keep us safe and healthy. You should be pleased.’

She pouts. ‘It’s so boring though. And speaking of healthy, I’m desperate for a smoke – I’m going to get rid of this costume and go outside.’ She picks up her bag. ‘What are you doing now?’

‘I thought I might go to the gym.’

She laughs. ‘Rather you than me.’

‘What about you? Back to bed like you said to Jamie?’

‘Maybe later. I’m meeting Alice for coffee. Stuff we’ve got to talk about.’

‘Stuff? Like what?’ I ask. Lola’s always saying things like that to wind me up – she knows I hate it when she has secrets from me.

She taps the side of her nose. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know? Nothing for you to worry about – just girl stuff. See you later, gym boy. Enjoy your workout.’

2

Alice

New Year’s Eve 2021, 22:00

The Caribbean

I’ve been summoned to the captain’s table this evening. It’ll be my first time since being on board. Apparently, CEO Nico has come for a visit, and he wants to meet me. I’m told he’s been desperate to get a three-Michelin-starred chef on Immanis for ages, and I have now made that wish come true.

Cute.

I’ve dressed up for the occasion – it’s probably a bit over the top, but I’m in a Vampire’s Wife dress I was given by a very rich client as a thank you for a particularly good dinner party I catered. It’s about the first time I’ve been out of chef’s scrubs or pyjamas since I joined the ship. I’m looking forward to a night away from the kitchen, eating the best quality food, carefully prepared by my sous chefs and served by fawning waiters. What’s not to like? I hope Nico arrives soon; it’s a bit awkward making small talk with Leo by myself – he’s not exactly known for his conversational skills and neither am I. I’m always more comfortable in the kitchen than at the table.

TopSail is the smartest restaurant on board by far and is at almost the highest point of the ship, accessed by a dedicated glass lift. The sixty-cover dining room (tiny for a ship of this size for that extra exclusive feel) has huge windows which go all the way round and, in a somewhat retro way, revolves.

Tonight I’m also taking the opportunity to check how the restaurant appears from a client’s point of view, as I almost never get to do that. Chefs should eat in their own restaurants, but we don’t. We never have the time.

‘Nico, how lovely to see you,’ gushes the hostess, a young woman in a tight, floor-length dress covered in black sequins, as Nico steps through the door. All guests in this restaurant are greeted by name – the staff are sent pictures with their bookings to make sure they get them right. Where possible, there are also a few biographical details so the waiters and hosts can do bespoke schmoozing, plus a list of their foodie likes and dislikes to make sure everything is catered to their personal tastes.

‘Your table is ready for you. Captain Leo and Alice are already here,’ she tells him. ‘Please follow me.’

We stand as Nico arrives at the table and both shake his hand. ‘I’m so pleased you could join me for dinner tonight, Leo, Alice,’ Nico says. ‘I appreciate it. I won’t keep you long – I’m sure you have other people to see. And you should be able to enjoy your New Year’s Eve, of course.’

We sit down and a waiter offers us a choice of various types of bread, all freshly baked on site today. I choose walnut and he places it on my side plate with tongs.

Leo smiles politely. ‘It’s a pleasure to see you, Nico, as always. But I’m afraid I won’t be able to linger – I’m back on shift at midnight. The younger ones are more bothered about tonight’s party than me, so I’m happy to let one of them have the time off and take my turn keeping the ship on course.’

Nico nods. ‘That’s very generous of you – I’m sure they appreciate it.’

Leo laughs. ‘I doubt it.’

Some amuse-bouches are brought to the table and set in front of us. There’s a blob of wakame (basically, seaweed by another name, but in a high-end restaurant like this, it is always wakame) on an elaborate spoon adorned with orange fish eggs, a parmesan crisp with cayenne topped with Beluga caviar, and a tiny courgette muffin served inside a freeze-dried and lightly caramelized courgette flower. All of these are my creations, and all ones of which I’m very proud. The waiter describes each one in an impressive amount of detail, as I insist they do. We serve three different amuse-bouches every day of the week, and the menu changes daily, so the servers have a lot to memorize. But it’s important. People don’t come to a Michelin-starred restaurant just for the food – they come for the entire experience. I sometimes say it’s more like a theatrical production than a meal, and pretend I don’t see the kitchen staff rolling their eyes. I’m right, though – I know I am.

The waiter finishes his spiel, which he does to perfection. I must remember to congratulate him on his next shift.

‘This looks delicious, Alice,’ Nico says. ‘I don’t mean to be a fanboy, but I’m not ashamed to say I’m extremely excited to have you on board, and almost as excited to be having dinner with you today. I’ve eaten several times at your restaurants and I wanted to tell you personally what a pleasure it always is, and how delighted I am that you accepted this post with Heracles. You’ve already worked wonders with TopSail, and I’m sure you’ll put it even more on the map than it already is. If that makes sense.’

‘The food has always been excellent on Immanis,’ he continues, ‘but it’s really gone up a notch since you arrived. I hope that in the future, we might be the first ever cruise ship to have a three Michelin-starred restaurant. Wouldn’t that be something?’

I blush. That would be something. And not something I can promise by any means. ‘I’ll do my best,’ I say vaguely.

Three waiters appear in sync and whisk the used crockery away. The plates are replaced by elaborately and somewhat impractically shaped bowls of squid-ink soup with miso and pork belly.

‘I was very pleasantly surprised,’ Nico adds, ‘that you took the post, to be honest. I never thought we’d get a big name like you on board.’

‘Not at all,’ I say. ‘Who wouldn’t want to spend some time in the Caribbean? Makes a change from rainy old London.’ It wasn’t quite as simple as that, but I don’t want to shout about my reasons for wanting to get away, so I quickly move the conversation on.

Nico seems genuinely interested as I witter on about my favourite dishes, interspersed with some name-dropping of a few of the more famous clients I’ve served. Over the years, I’ve come to realize that most people are much more interested in hearing about who has eaten my food than about the food itself. However much I am known for my attention to detail when it comes to my dishes, a story about a celebrity ordering a £20,000 bottle of wine or being caught snorting coke in the loos always trumps me droning on about the provenance of my ingredients or the best way to grate truffles.

Once we have cleared our plates, they are again whisked away and replaced with wood pigeon breasts artfully arranged on crisped bok choy.

‘And I understand you’re staying on during the lay-up?’ Nico adds.

‘Looking forward to it,’ I say. And I really am. I made it a condition of my employment. The lay-up is only two months, but all I’ll have to do is cook for a skeleton crew, though I also want to use the time to develop the menus and strategies, and hope this might help me in my quest for a third star for the restaurant. I’ll be overseeing meals for about a hundred people instead of several thousand as the ship is renovated, and on the same money too, so it’s a pretty good deal for me. And after all that stuff that happened in London, I’m ready for some stress-free downtime.

‘Everything is organized for the lay-up, Leo, is it?’ Nico asks. ‘You’ve got the required staff to keep it ticking over?’

‘Yep – all sorted,’ he confirms. ‘Way more people wanting to stay on than we could take in the end. You think they’d be ready for a holiday away from the ship by now, but I guess they need the money. Or have nowhere else to go.’ There is an awkward pause. ‘I’m staying on too, as you know,’ Captain Leo adds.

‘And I appreciate that,’ Nico says. ‘I know Immanis will be in good hands.’

Dessert is brought out – a fruit salad, chopped into equally sized colourful cubes and delicately sculpted into a tower in a spun-sugar cage, sprinkled with edible glitter. As the two men ooh and ahh over the dessert and how pretty it is, the sparkly dressed hostess appears at the side of our table, her customary smile unusually absent.

‘Captain, I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’ve had a message from the bridge asking you to radio them immediately.’ She leans in closer so that the nearby tables can’t hear. ‘They say someone’s gone overboard.’

3

Alice

New Year’s Day 2022, 03:00

The Caribbean

I probably wouldn’t have known that the ship had turned round and gone back the way it came, if I hadn’t been there when Leo got the original call, or if it hadn’t been for the general murmurs and gossip among the crew. It’s difficult to have much sense of direction when you’re on something this huge and can’t see land.

But as soon as the lifeboat crews were scrambled, word spread round the workers almost as quickly as norovirus, the dirtiest word on a cruise ship in many senses. And after that, it wasn’t long until some of the passengers started noticing that something was up too.

Even from up here on Deck 16, I can just about make out the lights of the boats which are searching the water beneath. Looking down at them makes me feel queasy. I’m new to being on board, not only compared to most of the crew but also compared to a lot of the passengers, many of whom are veteran cruisers who come year after year – often on the same boat and sometimes even following the same itinerary. While I don’t claim to be any kind of physicist, it is still beyond me that something this size can actually float. The sea scares me if I think about it too hard – it’s so immense. Vast. Powerful. You fall in, you get swallowed up.

Rick, a junior engineer, is gazing out over the water, watching the lights. He’s one of my favourite people that I’ve met since I joined – he’s dry, funny, and reminds me of a brilliant pastry chef I worked with in London. He has a reputation for being a bit of a letch, but I’m too old for him to bother with so I can overlook that. He’s not the brightest, admittedly, and neither is he the most popular of the crew, but I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for the underdog. It can be lonely out at sea, I find, especially as I haven’t been here that long. But I feel like he’s my friend, and we have a laugh together.

‘If you didn’t know they were looking for someone who’s either already dead or not even there, you could say the lights on the water were quite pretty,’ Rick observes.

I laugh. ‘That could be almost poetic, if it wasn’t so macabre,’ I say. He gives me a strange look.

‘Macabre?’ he asks.

‘Ghoulish. Spooky. Something like that.’

He nods unselfconsciously. ‘Right-o.’

‘Anyway, what do you mean?’ I continue. ‘They’re either dead or not there? Why would they be spending all this time and effort on a rescue effort if that was the case?’

Rick shrugs. ‘The search – it’s pointless, isn’t it? They sent the boats out on the say-so of some woman who’s been in the posh bar chugging champagne all night – hardly the most reliable of witnesses. And if someone did fall, there’s almost no chance they would have survived. Look how high up we are.’

I look down at the water again and it makes my stomach lurch. It is indeed a long way down.

‘Falling from the height of the bar – fifteen storeys – on to water is like falling on to concrete,’ he continues. ‘Chances are you’ll hit the side of the boat at some point on the way down, and unless you land on an awning or something, that’s unlikely to be a good thing.’

‘Grim,’ I agree.

‘And even if by some miracle you land in the water alive, the ocean is enormous. The likelihood of you being found and rescued before you drown or die of hypothermia is negligible. Stopping a ship like this isn’t like slamming the brakes on in a car. It takes several minutes and travels at least a mile before they can even start turning it round. Plus we’re a long way from land. And as well as all that, have a guess how deep the Caribbean is at its deepest.’

‘Erm … couple of hundred metres?’ I venture. I don’t really know anything about the sea beyond the occasional episode of Blue Planet I’ve watched when I’m not on shift which is almost never, but 200 metres sounds pretty deep to me.

He smiles. ‘You div, Alice. You’re way off.’ He pauses for dramatic effect. ‘More than seven thousand metres.’

‘No way!’ I am genuinely surprised.

He nods sagely. ‘Yep. And that’s not even as deep as it goes in other oceans. When you have a minute and the WiFi’s working for more than a couple of seconds at a time, you should google the Mariana Trench. I can’t remember exactly where it is but it’s under the sea somewhere. If you were able to put Everest inside it, the peak would still be two thousand metres below sea level. Imagine that.’ He pauses again. ‘And then imagine being in a body of water that big, all alone, in the dark, after you’ve fallen from this height.’

I look down at the water and imagine someone falling into it and sinking, sinking and sinking. Ugh. I shudder. Doesn’t bear thinking about.

‘How do you know all this stuff anyway?’ I ask.

He shrugs. ‘It’s what comes of a lifetime of having menial jobs where you don’t have to talk to people that much. Plenty of time to listen to podcasts about all sorts. I don’t read much – next to nothing – but I love listening to stuff.’

We both look at the water in silence together, watching the lights move across the surface, almost as if they’re choreographed.

‘The other thing to factor in,’ he says, breaking the silence, ‘is that if someone did go over, it’s very likely to have been their own choice. The way cruise ships are designed these days, it’s almost impossible to go overboard accidentally.’ He taps the side of his nose. ‘Mark my words, I’m right. One way or another, no one will be found alive. Bet you a mojito in Miami.’ He offers his hand and I take it with a smile.

‘A mojito in Miami,’ I repeat. ‘Done. Although betting on something like that feels … wrong.’ I’m a bit embarrassed to feel my eyes mist as the thought of someone falling into something so deep is horrific. I hope Rick doesn’t notice.

He pats me on the shoulder. ‘Soft as sugar, you are. Right. Better get back to it. Those broken things won’t fix themselves.’

I carry on looking out over the sea, staying where I am. I can’t get the thought that someone might be in that dark water all alone, so far below, out of my head.

Many people are already in bed by the time the search begins, but some of those who aren’t start to drift out to the decks, attracted like moths to light by the sound of the helicopters. Or perhaps some indiscreet crew members let slip what was going on. It wouldn’t surprise me if some of the younger staff were trying to impress some of the more attractive passengers they’ve had their eye on with a bit of insider gossip, especially now that it’s both New Year’s Eve and the last night of the cruise. ‘Personal liaisons’, as HR refers to shagging, are strictly forbidden between crew and guests, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t go on. I’ve only been on board about five minutes in cruising terms, but I’ve already noticed a lot of it happening, especially among the bar staff. I turn a blind eye though – it’s none of my business and I’ve got enough of my own stuff to deal with.

Antonio appears at my side. He’s in black jogging bottoms and his face is almost as grey as his tight T-shirt.

‘It’s Lola who’s gone over,’ he says. ‘I’m sure it is. I still can’t find her and her phone’s off.’

My stomach lurches. It can’t be her they’re looking for. Can it? ‘Why do you say that?’ I ask. ‘It’s a big ship – she could be anywhere. She’s probably turned her phone off because she wants some peace. And you know what the signal’s like on here, it’s never that good. I saw her at lunchtime and she was fine.’ I also saw her later when she wasn’t so fine, but I’m not going to tell Antonio about that. She swore me to secrecy. And now … I’m not even sure if I trust him. Lola clearly didn’t.

‘She’s always laughing and joking and the life and soul of the party, but no one knows her like I do,’ he says. ‘She’s fragile. If she’s … if she’s …’ He gulps back a sob and swipes at his eyes.

‘I was just talking to Rick about it,’ I say. ‘He thinks this whole thing is a false alarm. Some woman thought she saw something, but it could well have been nothing at all. I was at dinner with Leo when he was told. If Nico hadn’t been there, I wonder if he might have dismissed the whole thing as a stupid rumour.’

He looks at me aghast. ‘Who saw something? I didn’t know that! Who did they see? Where? Was it a woman? Was it Lola? What did they say?’

Shit. Looks like I’ve said the wrong thing. ‘I’ve only heard it about sixth hand.’ I qualify. ‘A woman in Fizz thought she saw someone fall. But they’ll all have been pissed as farts. I bet it’ll turn out to be nothing – a reflection, or a bird or something.’

Antonio draws his hand across his face. ‘Oh God.’ He pulls his phone out and jabs at it, stares at it and then rams it back into his pocket. ‘Fuck’s sake! Why do the stupid phone masts on this fucking boat never work?’

He looks down at the lights of the boats searching. ‘How long will they keep looking for?’ he asks.

‘No idea.’ Why is he asking me? He’s been on